


Thinking of Florence

by Girl_WithTheDirtyMind (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Caring Dean Winchester, Crossroads Deals & Demons, Crowley and Feelings, Declarations Of Love, Denial of Feelings, Desperation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Family Member Death, Fluff, Frustration, Good Boyfriend Dean, Healing, Heavy Drinking, Hints of Potential Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Impulsive Behavior, Lashing Out, Minor Violence, Painplay, Reckless Decisions, Rough Sex, Sad, Sad Reader, Sam Cooks, Self-Harm (sort of), Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Girl_WithTheDirtyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader Request -- The reader's Grandmother passes away and she desperately needs comfort/distraction from her boyfriend Dean. So he takes her away from everyone else where she can cope in whatever way she needs (can consist of alcohol, smut, cuddling, whatever)</p><p>Okay so I put a little bit of my own dark-ish spin on this one, but overall I hope it's what you were looking for :) Thanks for the request! <3</p><p>Grieving Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thinking of Florence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deansdirtywhore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansdirtywhore/gifts).



> Requested by Deansdirtywhore. Hope this one helps :)
> 
>  
> 
> Angst, Feels, and Smut ahead! Starts out at the Wake, just FYI ~

_Pain_. That’s what it was.

A deep-seated ache in the center of your chest that made it hard to breathe.

 _She’s gone. Just like that._ Taken from you in the blink of an eye, in a single breath.

Staring hard at her picture frozen in a big black frame in front of her casket, you tried not to feel the crippling sadness that threatened to bury you, to consume you. _Not in front of all these people. Not here._

All you wanted to do was _scream_ though, let out a long broken wail to the ceiling, loud enough to shake your house and spew the bad thoughts away.

Subtle warmth on your arm alerted you to a presence by your side, but you didn’t even have the care to see who it was, you really didn’t need to anyway. That familiar smell of cologne alerted you to who stood beside you.

It was Dean.

He didn’t speak, just stood quietly while you tried to take in the most recent mountain in your life. Whoever chose the picture really did a good job though, it encompassed her almost perfectly.

She was smiling widely with her white hair worn down as usual, a small smile graced your face when you noticed the turtleneck she wore. It was your favorite, hers too you guessed, it was white with tiny holly leaves and berries spattered about.

More of a Christmas theme, but she didn’t seem to care since she sported it through every month of the year.

Quietly so no one could hear, you murmured to your boyfriend,

“What am I gonna do Dean?” and damn if speaking didn’t make it harder to keep the tears in. You almost lost it when you looked at him; his eyes were red rimmed and his face slack with grief, by now though it had to be a familiar feeling for him what with all of the people he’s had to say goodbye to.

“I don’t know kid.” you loved it when he called you that, even now in your puddle of sadness it made your heart swell a little.

Dean wiped his hand down over his mouth and blinked furiously.

Truthfully he loved your Grandmother almost as much as you did. Some days he’d sit by your side listening to the tales of her childhood right along with you nodding eagerly and picking up on the subtle life lessons she’d slide in there.

Dean was amazing like that. . .

What you were struggling most with at the moment was the constant stream of people telling you how to deal with this, how to handle her death like they had the magic answer to take the pain away.

Everyone deals with pain differently, and nothing they told you helped. . . It only added on the pillows to suffocate you with. And just like you knew would happen, you began to recede inside of yourself to escape them all.

“I don’t think I can take one more person coming up and apologizing to me -”

“Hey , I’m so sorry for your loss!” right on cue your Aunt yell whispered in your face, “I know that old girl meant so much to you.” and then you did it. You snapped.

“She wasn’t just some old _girl_.” you practically growled into her makeup covered face, “She was. . . She - she was. . .” you couldn’t even think of how to finish that sentence.

_Amazing? Legendary? No nothing really matched her._

“Alright come on sweetheart, I think it’s time to go.” Dean rumbled behind you just in time. Before you could protest he took you gently by the elbow and lead you out the door, allowing you to cast one more glance into the flower stuffed house before he opened the door to the beloved Impala.

 _Irises,_ you realized,  _Her favorite._

“Yo Sammy!” Dean called gruffly across the lawn, swirling his index finger in a circle above his head like a G.I. might, “Let’s roll!” only then did you notice that he was trying to usher you into the _passenger_ seat.

“Wait where’s Sam gonna sit?” you protested lightly,

“In the back, he didn’t just have to go to his Grandma’s funeral.” he was looking at you with such worry that you might’ve screamed if it wasn’t for the herd of family members milling about the yard and the open house.

“Dean please, you don’t need to baby me.” you swallowed hard, choking down heartache, “I’m _fine_.” his shoulder slumped abruptly, and you knew if it was any other situation he’d call you on your bullshit, but he was too thoughtful for that.

Soft swishing of grass alerted you to Sam’s arrival,

“You’re sitting in the middle , I’m not banishing you to the back just because my legs are too long.” you huffed, dangerously close to breaking,

“You _guys_.” you almost stomped a foot, “I said I’m fine. I really am, this - this is normal. It’s okay!” the brothers exchanged a loaded glance, and you knew you’d lost. Dean all but shoved you into the front bench seat,

“I know you’re hurting , you don’t have to hide from me.” your eye twitched at the will it took to hold off your oncoming grief flood.

“I know.” you whispered. And you did. You knew that Sam and Dean were both safe zones, that’s why you loved them so fucking much. There was no judgement with them, especially with this kind of thing because lord knows the two of them deal with death quite disastrously.

Drinking binges and easy lays. Well until you came along that is, the second part was now your role with Dean. Hell they’ve been known to make crossroad deals-- your eyes widened.

_Crossroad deals._

“You doing alright?” Sam asked after he loaded into the front beside you. A heavy hand covered your knee,

“ _No_.” the word barely came out, before Dean squished in next to you, sandwiching you between him and his brother. He took one glance at you before hastily cranking the ignition, throwing Baby into drive, and practically peeling away from the curb.

Just as he suspected, as soon as you were out of eye shot of everyone else, you burst into unrestrained loud tears. Dean threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him with one hand on the wheel,

“There we go baby, let it all out. . .” he murmured while you turned and sobbed into his black suit jacket, “I’m right here. . . Right here, it’s gonna be alright sweetheart.” little circles were being rubbed into your shoulder by his thumb,

“Will - will you take me back to the bunker?” the wept sentence was muffled by fabric, but he answered immediately,

“Of course, I’m gonna get you somewhere to heal.” you had only just started dating Dean exclusively after stumbling upon the bunker during a hike, your curiosity had you breaking in, and the Winchester’s hostility had them aiming guns in your face.

It wasn’t exactly true love at first sight, but after a few insistent dinner invitations and late night drives. . . He. . . let’s just say he _convinced_ you to be his. Wink wink.

 

As soon as Dean rolled into the garage, Sam was up and out of the car, speed walking to the door like he was on a mission.

“Alright come on babe, let’s get you somethin' to eat.” Dean gently lifted you into his arms from the seat and you wrapped your legs around his waist like a toddler might do.

Clinging around his neck, you were carried smoothly to the main room of the bunker where Dean sat down in a big wooden chair. You curled up against him, refusing to break contact.

He supported you by gripping the crook of your knee where your little black dress was hiked up, and wrapping his arm snugly around your back. Cradled like a baby. And crying like one too. . . but there was no shame here.

Only love.

Pots and pans clattered loudly in the kitchen nearby,

“Sounds like Sammy’s on a mission, how much you wanna bet he’s making eggs Benedict? Your favorite. . .” he tempted, giving you a little shake.

“Not hungry Dean. . .” you wept, “I just wanna drink.” he sighed heavily, but he could sense the seriousness in your voice,

“Alright sweetheart, let me go get the top shelf.” he heaved you both up, only to set you back down in the empty chair, “be right back.” he leaned down to kiss you hard, those full lips pressing tenderly against yours, making you forget all of your worries for the second they were on you.

_How did I get so lucky?_

You watched him walk away, all sex on bowlegs in his FBI suit and tie. Then something caught your eye, something that tore you right out of your moment of bliss. Your grandmother's photo album.

_Sam must’ve kyped it from the wake. . . Damn him and his sticky fingers._

Despite your trepidation, you gingerly reached over the table and pulled it closer so you could look through it for quite possibly the hundredth time in your life. It was painful to think about all of the time she had narrated the viewings, each and every photo with it’s own little (or _long_ ) summary of what was happening while the picture was being taken.

But that wouldn’t happen this time.

She wasn’t here. And she never would be again. By the time you flipped open the cover you were already crying, and even though you’d seen each of these a thousand times over, every still was like a shard of glass into your heart.

And picture by beautiful picture, your lungs took in less air. Until finally you had gotten to the back where something new was waiting.

A drawing by the looks of it. _Oh God no. . . One of her drawings._ Of - of _you_. . . Playing at what looked like a park as a little girl. At the bottom of the pencil sketch was a little caption:

**My beloved . Back when innocence wasn’t so hard to find.**

Your heart broke.

“ _Dean_!” you screamed, choking on air as you failed to keep your cool. Loud running footsteps came thudding out of the kitchen,

“What? What!?” he was frantic until his eyes landed on the drawing, clutched in your shaking hands. Your eyes trained on the bottle of whiskey instantly, and without any sense of self you snatched it from his hand and unscrewed the cap.

“Um. . , I got you a _glass_.” you didn’t even answer him before taking two hefty gulps of the burning amber, relishing the warmth showering your insides. “Alright then.” he sighed, taking a seat beside you just as Sam backed out of the kitchen with a plate full of eggs Benedict.

You noticed a worried crease in his brow when he saw you swigging the whiskey straight, but chose to ignore it.

“Thanks Sammy.” he winced a little at the nickname, he hated so much. Only Dean got to call him that, and you knew full well, but the alcohol was already clouding your senses and making you bitter. Dean's eyes were zeroed in on you, narrowed a fraction at your behavior.

“Welcome,” he pasted on a warm smile, “you keeping that all to yourself?” he gestured to the bottle, and Dean chuckled good naturedly.

You didn’t answer though, instead you dug into Sam’s cooking like an absolute pig. Shoveling forkful after forkful into your face, moaning shamelessly at the taste and washing it all down with shot after shot of whiskey.

The look on the brothers faces told you exactly what they were thinking: _she’s gonna be throwing up either tonight or tomorrow. Soon. She’ll be barfing soon._

And you probably would.

In record time the plate was completely empty, and the bottle was over halfway finished. It had been full when you started, needless to say the room was rocking a little. Sam caught your eye, and the pitying look in his sparked anger.

“You got a fucking _problem_ Sammy?” you slur/snarled, earning identical raised brows from both men simultaneously, they were calm still but visibly surprised. Dean was the one who spoke though,

“I think that’s enough to drink sweetheart,” he moved to grab the bottle, but you jerked away from him.

“Don’t tell me what to do Dean,” you stood on shaky legs feeling like you might keel over, “I can take care of myself!” you were so wasted that you didn’t even feel Sam’s steadying hand on the small of your back keeping your upright.

Dean rose from his chair, forcing you to look up to keep eye contact, the change in angle made you more dizzy.

“Come on , give me the bottle.” he was being gentle but you knew a command when you heard one. However instead of submitting you definitely took another hefty pull from the amber.

“Goddammit kid.” Dean moved forward and you stumbled back a little bit before gathering all of your balance to give him a hearty shove. Or what you _thought_ was a hearty shove.

In fact the momentum from the push only landed you on your ass, and you sat there for a second completely muddled by the alcohol.

“Shit,” Sam reached for you as did Dean, but you scrambled back a little, protecting your precious liquid with your body,

“Get the fuck away from me!” you snapped at both of them, but there were hands on your upper arms, hauling you up from the ground and the bottle was jerked from your grasp by a different pair or hands.

“Give it back Sam, you son of a bitch!” Dean was holding you upright and leveling you with a glare that captured _all_ of your attention,

“I know you’re hurting but you're acting like a brat!” he growled, and that was all it took to reduce you to tears for the third time that night. His face immediately crumpled,

“I - I _miss_ her Dean!” you sobbed, “It _hurts_. . . It hurts so much!” he pulled you to him, crushing you with his embrace,

“It’s gonna be alright ,” he promised, “you don’t gotta hurt yourself like this. What do you need babygirl?” an idea sprung to mind suddenly and you pulled away to look him in the eye, twisting his tie in your hand mindlessly.

He look confused and worried, but your drunkenness practically forced the words out of your mouth,

“I need you to fuck me Dean.” his eyes widened at your crass demand, and Sam coughed loudly, choking on awkwardness.

“I’ll. . . I’ll just _go_ then. . .” he stuttered, and all but ran out of the room so fast it looked like he was being chased by a clown. Dean sighed and hesitated for a moment,

“ , you’re drunk. It doesn’t feel right. .” always the nobleman. You sighed and crushed your lips to his, pushing up against him and rubbing your hips on his. He groaned, speaking against your lips, but responding nevertheless, like his body was on autopilot,

“We shouldn’t - I don’t - want to - take advantage - baby.” you broke the kiss to lick a long wet strip up his neck, and you felt him shudder against you. There was obvious hardness rubbing against your stomach,

“Dean Winchester,” you panted, looking him right in the eye, “either you fuck me till I forget my name, or I’m breaking up with you.” an empty threat of course, but you desperately needed to be distracted for a while.

“Yes _ma'am_.” he breathed, shoving you into the edge of the table so hard you squeaked. He smashed his lips back to yours, sliding a big hand up under your dress to rub your sex through your panties so insistently you cried out into his mouth.

He wasted no time in hiking your dress up to your hips, and ripping your panties off with one jerk, while your hands fumbled with his buckle and pretty much ripped the zipper from his slacks.

Dean’s erection sprung free, just as impressive as the first time you saw it, long thick and ready for action.

You needed it inside of you _now_.

He gripped your thighs and spread you wide, but when you saw him start to lower to his knees to eat you out, you grabbed his hair and pulled him back up.

“No - no, I need you inside of me _now_ Dean.” you practically begged, grabbing at his hips to pull him into you. He complied only to run his thick tip along your slit, making your buck up against him, before he pulled back.

“I don’t think you’re ready sweetheart. . .” he was sure of it, but he looked uncertain at the whole situation. You shook your head,

“Don’t care Dean, just fuck me! _Please_!” you cried, squeezing your legs around him to pull him back. He shook his head,

“You’re gonna hurt yourself ,” he argued with some amazing restraint on his part, seeing as the rock hard boner on your thigh was telling you exactly how much he wanted this.

You grabbed onto the lapels of his suit, and looked him square in those amazing green eyes,

“Dean. Please.” he was searching your face for something, any sign of regret that would give him the red light but he found none. So he positioned himself between your thighs and let out a huge sigh while he nudged at your opening.

With no warning other than the tightening of his fingers on your thighs, he swiftly pushed inside of you, freezing at the ear splitting scream you released on his entrance.

“Ahhh. . . _Ahhh_!” you mewled in pain at even just the slightest shift from him, feeling a tear slip out of the corner of your eye.

“Shit sweetheart, I told you -”

“ _Move_ Dean.” you gritted out through your clenched teeth, and his eyes widened in disbelief,

“No way. Nope, I’m not hurting you on purpose kid.” and he started trying to slide out, the pull making you wince with discomfort despite how gentle he was trying to be. You reached out to grip his forearm,

“Please,” your voice was taut with tension, “I _need_ this. I need you to fuck me like this.” it was so fucked up. Yeah it hurt, it hurt like a _bitch_ having all of him inside when you weren’t really wet.

But it was a different pain than the one you’d been feeling all day - a louder kind of pain that demanded attention above anything else - and it made you forget. That’s all you wanted, was to forget.

Whether or not Dean understood, he relented with a sharp nod and conflicted huff.

“Okay but not like this,” you were only confused for a moment before he lifted you up and turned, laying down so he was on the table and you were hovering over him, ready to ride him. It probably made him feel better knowing it was _you_ doing the damage.

He somehow managed all of this while staying inside of you, and you hesitated to move,

“Just say the word and we’ll stop.” he told you seriously, but you wanted this - needed it.

You bobbed up and down once on his thick shaft, letting out a sob at the burning stretch, but there was no way you were stopping. Dean gripped your hips after a moment, helping you set a pace, and you threw your head back at the feeling of him bottoming out over and over again in your tight heat.

After a few more pumps, you felt the undeniable slick of arousal easing the way and groaned, a tightening coil was making itself known low in your belly. Honestly you hadn’t expected to come from this rough ride. . .

As sick as it was your only intent was to hurt yourself.

Although you’d never been one for self harm, you guessed the feeling was a lot like this. Causing pain that was worse than what you were feeling before, physical hurt you could deal with instead of emotional hurt that was out of reach.

Dean was grunting as he neared his release, and snuck two fingers between your legs to rub circles into your clit,

“ _Oh_! Oh _God_ Dean, I think I’m gonna. . .”

“Come baby, come for me.” he sped up his fingers and thrusts while you pounded down on him like there was no tomorrow. In desperation the man shifted beneath you, hitting a new angle and grazing your g-spot deep inside.

“D - _Dean_! Coming! I’m - I’m _coming_!” you cried out as the coil snapped and you practically exploded on top of him, spasming and collapsing on his chest as he spilled himself into your aching sex.

“Jesus Christ.” you breathed, trying to regain control over your lifeless body.

“You okay?” he sounded as fucked out as you were,

“Probably not,” you answered honestly. Part of you wanted to apologize, but figured it could wait until tomorrow. Dean sat up and eased you off of his still softening dick, wiping away the stickiness from both of you with your ruined panties.

He gave you a single long kiss, and without another word took you to bed where he fell asleep almost instantly after saying,

“We need to talk in the morning.”

*********

Grief will cloud your judgement. Every time.

The cold breeze chilled your bare arms and seeped into the skin beneath your thin pants.

There was something spooky about standing in the middle of a deserted crossroads. Besides the fact that you could summon _demons_ there of course. . .

The urge to just keep looking over your shoulder sparked the nerves in your booze drenched veins that made you want to run, it was like there was too much open space behind you for monsters to sneak up in.

Unsettling.

Against your better judgement, which you seemed to be lacking as of late, you snuck out a few hours after Dean fell asleep. You just couldn't get your mind to stop. And that’s how you found yourself out here. . .

Dean and Sam had done this once in front of you, and it seemed pretty self explanatory, all you had to do was steal a crossroads box from the Impala and a set of keys from the garage.

You drove some shitter car out there, blaring classic rock so loud your thoughts couldn’t get to you. You didn’t _dare_ steal the Impala - selling your soul was one thing - but fucking with Dean’s ride was something you’d never come back from.

The little box had already been buried, so you just stood there shivering, waiting for a black eyed son of a bitch to show itself and screw you over.

 _Anything to hug her again. . . anything. . ._ Tears pricked your eyes, but you battled them back down in an effort to keep a brave face for the demon.

“Hello love,” you jumped at the smooth English accent behind you, whirling to come face to face with none other than Crowley. The King of Hell.

“Crowley,” you glared, “looking dapper as ever I see.” he raised an eyebrow at the attitude and gave you a once over,

“I’d return the compliment, but I’ve got to say. . . You’ve seen better days.” he smirked, “Still a treat though.” you probably blushed,

“Shove it Mick Jagger, I know I look like shit.” you snapped, earning an actual chuckle from the demon, “Isn’t this a little below your pay grade? I was expecting some other dirt bag.”

“Charming as always kitten,” he mused, “when I heard it was you I had to see for myself what all the fuss was about.” there was a spark of something in his eye that caught you off guard.

_Was it concern? Couldn’t be._

“Tell me puppet,” he took a step forward, “what’s got you ready to send yourself to the farm?”

“My Grandma,” you said without hesitation, “I want - I need her back.” there it was, that flash in his eye again. He kept a cool exterior as always,

“While I’m always one for a good deal, especially with a sweet little soul like yours, don’t you think it was her time ?” your eyes teared up again, Crowley studied your features intently seeming more gentle than he normally was in front of Sam and Dean.

“Crowley please. . . I can’t handle it, I just need a little more time with her.” then a tear did slip out and you wiped it away stubbornly. _Great I’m crying in front of the King of Hell. Awesome_.

“Darling,” he sighed before continuing, “I know this is difficult for you, but I can’t let you make such a rash decision in such a fragile state. Come back to me in three months, sober, and we’ll deal if you still have the appetite.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, Crowley wouldn’t make a deal with you?!

“This is your job! Do it Crowley.” tears were freely pouring down your face, and you poked a stiff finger into his chest. He merely glanced down at it.

“No.” a hopeless feeling swelled in your heart, “The Winchesters and I are on fairly good terms as of late, and I’m not mucking it up for one little deal.”

“ _Please_. . .” you begged, “I just - I just need to talk to her one last time. She would know what to say to make the pain stop, she always did.” pity glinted in his dark eyes, and you realized with a certain amount of shame that you had latched onto the lapels of his suit.

Before you could let go however, his hands were firmly on your upper arms and a kiss was being planted to your forehead.

Quick and sweet. You gaped at him, and he didn’t release you,

“Was that. . .?” _did he just seal the deal?_ He smirked down at you,

“No, there _is_ no deal love.” he told you, “That was simply a consolation. Here’s another.” suddenly a familiar scent invaded your nostrils, loud and heavy, and your eyes widened in recognition.

“ _Lavender_ ,” you gasped, “how did you know. . .?” all he did was shrug as you closed your eyes and inhaled your Grandmother’s scent greedily. It was so spot on that you could picture her standing in front of you, smiling down on you like she did when she told she loved you.

You wrapped your arms around the body in front of you, not caring for a moment that it was only Crowley, and felt him return the gesture solidly.

To you it was her. The smell surrounded you and out of nowhere you heard her voice clear as day,

“I love you honey. Always. Please don’t cry.” but you did just that. You bawled into Crowley’s tie, sobbing for all it was worth, and he let you until there were no more tears to shed.

“I miss you Grammy,” you wept, “I love you so _much_. . .” then the smell faded gently away, and you opened your eyes to look up at Crowley. He looked devastated for a split second before he put on his cynical mask,

“Sorry-”

“Don’t mention it darling. That little visit was free of charge.” your eyes popped,

“That was-”

“Really her yes. She heard you, you heard her, it was magical, you’re welcome.” he did however give you one last squeeze before releasing you.

“Crowley. . . _Thank_ you. I don’t even know what to say. . .” you were dumbstruck at his uncharacteristic generosity. He shrugged coolly with his hands in his coat pockets,

“What can I say? I’m always a sucker for a teary eyed damsel,” a all too familiar flutter of wings sounded behind you, and both you and Crowley stiffened. “That’s my cue. Ta ta.” he winked and vanished from the dirt road.

A harsh hand on your elbow made you wince and turn to face the stormy eyed angel who was currently glaring down at you,

“Castiel I -” but your stomach was already rolling with the sudden teleportation, and you were standing in the main room of the bunker before you could blink.

“ ?” Dean was fully dressed with the keys to the Impala in his hand, obviously ready to go out and find you,

“I found her at a crossroads,” Castiel said grimly, “Crowley disappeared before I could speak with him.” Dean’s face contorted with many different emotions - rage, fear, sadness - and he finally landed on concern.

“What did you do?” he whispered crossing the room and grabbing you by the upper arms,

“Nothing Dean,” you murmured defeated, “Crowley wouldn’t deal. . . He let me talk to her though.” Dean’s face lit with surprise,

“Really?” you nodded, and he pulled you in tight,

“Thank God, baby, thank God.” you felt guilty for what Dean must have been put through tonight,

“I’m so sorry Dean, I’ve been so difficul-”

“No. No you have nothing to apologize for sweetheart,” his chest rumbled with his words, “Let’s get you to bed, we’ll talk in the morning. Cas call Sam, tell him we found her.”

Dean hoisted you up bridal style and carried you back to his room while you kept your head buried in his neck. He wasted no time in pulling you tight to him, your back to his front, and rubbing up and down your arm lovingly.

“God I love you so much babydoll. Please don’t ever do that to me again,” he whispered,

“I won’t Dean, I’m sorry. . . I’m just so. . .” you struggled for a word, but Dean answered anyway,

“I know baby, I know.” he murmured gently, “You’ll get through this, and I’ll be right here the whole time. I promise.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me Dean.” you rolled over to face him, still in his arms, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” he pressed a warm kiss to the tip of your nose with those full lips,

“Be living a normal life, hanging out with normal friends, having a steady job. . .” he cracked a small smile,

“Sounds boring to me,” his smile turned blinding, and he hugged you closer, the simple action put your mind to rest. However temporary it still was a relief, but that’s what being with Dean did to you.

He made you feel secure.

“I’m glad, cause I wouldn’t let you go if you begged me to sugar.” and that was perfectly fine with you. . . So fucking fine.

“I love you Dean.” you said with a yawn,

“Love you .”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcome as always! 
> 
> ~Hope ya'll liked it!


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